Operation Broach
by noiseinthe-system
Summary: The core group is on their most dangerous mission yet: stealing a broach from Hetty. *cue theme music*


**Operation Broach**

"So what you're saying is that you don't believe in me."

Callen and Sam hear Kensi's accusatory voice before they see her round the corner into the bullpen on Monday morning.

"That's not _at all_ what I'm saying," Deeks argues as they take their seats behind their desks. "But you've only taken one class. And Hetty is… Hetty."

"What are you two arguing about today?" Sam demands before Kensi can retort. He shoots a glance at Callen; while Sam is mildly annoyed, Callen has an expression of subtle amusement, which he always gets when listening to Kensi and Deeks bicker.

"Nothing," Kensi snaps at the same time Deeks begins to explain, "She's taking this course that teaches sleight-of-hand spy tricks. And, after only a single class, she thinks she is good enough to steal something from Hetty."

"Sleight-of-hand?" Callen repeats. "I'm picturing magicians in Vegas who pickpocket drunk volunteers on stage. Is that what you're learning?"

" _No_ ," she responds with a scowl. "I'll have you know that sleight of hand is a very important and useful skill to have in espionage. The course is taught by a former Mossad operative, and he said that I am one of the quickest learners he has ever taught."

"You sure he wasn't just trying to hit on you?" Callen asks.

"I work with jerks," Kensi mutters as she pauses in unpacking her workbag. Folding her arms, she demands, "So you don't think I could do it either?"

"Steal something from Hetty?" Sam clarifies. "Hell, no. Hetty sees all. But I'd like to see you try."

"Fine," she says after a moment.

"Fine?" Deeks echoes. "Wait—"

"You guys can pick a specific object for me to steal from Hetty," she says. "And I'll do it by the end of the day."

Sam shakes his head with a grin as he responds, "No way. I want no part in this."

"Come on, Sam," Callen exclaims. "This sounds fun." He studies Kensi for a moment, and she raises her eyebrows expectantly. His blue eyes have a mischievous glow when he says finally, "By the end of the workday today, you have to steal Hetty's broach. It's a nice one, too—I gave it to her for Christmas last year."

Kensi balks for only a second before she uncrosses her arms and decides, "Alright."

She nonchalantly goes back unpacking her bag, but Callen continues, "And you know what? Let's make this even more interesting. I am going to try to steal her broach _without_ using some Mossad spy magic trick. And you can have Deeks help you. I'll use Sam."

Both Sam and Deeks begin to protest, but a dangerous glare from their respective partners silence them quickly.

"Think of it as a teambuilding activity," Callen says to Sam, who only rolls his eyes in reply. "And the winner gets the bragging rights of being the Best NCIS Agent ever."

"We're in," Kensi says.

"I'm not even an agent," Deeks argues, "so really, I don't need to be involved in this."

"Shut up, Deeks," she hisses.

Before anyone can respond, there is a sharp whistle from the stairs. Eric has a case for them.

x

After the team is debriefed by Hetty and Granger on a case involving stolen rabbits and a missing Navy Lieutenant, Eric approaches the group.

"So, did I hear something about a bet?" he asks quietly in his best James Bond impression. He had already filled Nell in on what he overheard, and, as he knew she would, she was very keen on joining in the competition.

"Maybe," Callen responds casually. "Why?"

"We want in," Nell informs him as she joins their circle.

"Okay," Kensi agrees after a glance towards Callen, who gives her a small nod. "You and Eric are a team. The challenge is to steal Hetty's broach off of her sweater without her noticing. Whoever wins gets the unofficial title of Best NCIS agent—you just have to do it by the end of the work day today."

"Hetty knows nothing," Deeks reminds them. He's starting to get into the game; there is a certain excitement in trying to pull one over on Hetty. However, it will stop being fun if she catches on to them. His heart palpitates when he thinks about the wrath of Henrietta Lange, and for a moment he thinks he might be having a coronary.

"Understood," Nell says. "Come on, Eric. We have to think of a plan while everyone else is out looking for those stolen rabbits."

x

"She's too observant," Callen says an hour later. He leans back in the seat of Sam's car as he lowers his binoculars. He and Sam have been assigned a stakeout outside of a taco shop that may or may not be a front for a drug enterprise associated with the Navy Lieutenant and the stolen rabbits. While Sam insisted that they focus on the restaurant, Callen had decided that they might as well use the time to come up with an adequate plan. So far, though, every idea has been ultimately denied for one reason or another. He goes on, "We won't be able to steal it from her when she's alert."

"She's alert every waking minute," Sam reminds him dismissively.

Too late, he realizes how poor a choice of words this was. He watches Callen's face lights up with the full comprehension of what his partner had said.

"No," Sam says. He laughs in spite of himself, because the idea is so absurd. "No way."

"Yes! Sam Hanna, you're a genius. If we can't steal it from her while she's awake…"

Sam shakes his head as he informs him, "I'm not finishing that sentence."

"Come on, buddy." Callen grins as he prompts his partner. "If we can't take Hetty's broach while she is awake…"

He sighs.

"We'll have to put her to sleep. You know, G, I'm beginning to think that you have a death wish."

"Not a death wish. Just an addiction to adrenaline."

"I can't say I'd noticed that character flaw."

Callen raises his binoculars again, just in time to see their subject—the Navy Lieutenant's husband—exiting the taco shop with a suspicious brown bag.

"That's our cue," he says. He leaps out of the car with his badge outstretched, but before he can even make some quip about rabbits or quesadillas or a combination thereof, the man begins to run. He immediately breaks into a sprint with Sam right on his heels.

x

Meanwhile in Ops, the Wonder Twins are having their own argument.

"For the last time, Eric, that is not a good idea. I say that out of love, but… no, we're not setting Hetty on fire." He starts to argue, and she amends, "We're not setting her sweater on fire either."

"Fine," he grumbles as he leans his chin dejectedly into his fist. Nell leans back in her chair with a similar expression.

"We need to get her to take off her sweater. Otherwise, we won't be able to even get to the broach," Nell says. Her competitive nature is starting to rear its head—she wants to win this bet more than she has wanted anything, ever. Well, at least since the last bet she made.

Eric sits up quickly, making Nell jump.

"That's it! We set the _building_ on fire!"

"Eric—!"

"No, I don't mean… not literally." He leans towards Nell to whisper conspiratorially, "We hack into the heating and cooling system and bump up the temperature."

Nell grins as she continues, "She'll got so warm that she will be forced to take off her sweater. That's genius, Beale!"

"Thank you very much," he says with a small bow. He turns to the computer screen and begins to type, only pausing for a moment when Nell pecks him on the cheek.

x

"The secret behind a successful sleight-of-hand is making sure that there is a significant distraction," Kensi whispers. "The subject must have their attention elsewhere. That's where you will come in."

She is interrupted momentarily by a volley of gunfire.

"Could we maybe talk about this when we don't have a bunch of rabbit dealers shooting at us?" Deeks asks as he leans out the window of the giant plastic playhouse they had taken cover inside. He fires a couple of shots, but a stray rabbit begins to hop over his leg towards the door, and Deeks pauses in his counterassault to lunge after it. He tucks it under his arm to protect it from the incoming bullets.

"First of all, I think they are dealing more than rabbits, Deeks. And second, we have to discuss this before we get back to the office," she responds. She stretches her arm out of the red plastic door and shoots a rabbit-or-maybe-drug dealer in the shoulder. When she situates herself back inside the house to reload, she goes on, "I don't trust that Nell and Eric won't be listening in with their surveillance tech."

Deeks picks up another rabbit which is trying to make a run for it—or hop for it? Deeks isn't sure about the proper terminology—and places it in his gun-free arm with the other one.

"I'm listening," he tells her as he fires another shot. Two goons to go. "Could you take one of these?"

Kensi accepts one of the rabbits as she sticks her gun back out the slot in the door.

"When we get back to the office, I'm going to take one of the fake blood pouches we sometimes use in our vests. You're going to pretend…" A sharp series of _thwacks_ of bullets against plastic cut her off again. She and Deeks return fire, and he succeeds in shooting one in the knee. When they duck back into the house again, she goes on as though nothing had happened, "…pretend you cut yourself or something, and go to Hetty for help. I'll come with you, and while it will _look_ like I am doting over you, I will really be stealing the…" She pauses to shoot the last goon in the leg. "…broach. By the time she figures out that the blood is fake we'll already have won."

Kensi crawls out of the red door of the playhouse and raises her gun towards the dealers with a rabbit still cradled in her arm.

"Hands up," she commands.

As Deeks squeezes himself through the door, he marvels in the fact that she can manage to look so deadly while holding a fluffy white rabbit like a baby.

x

Nell and Eric, meanwhile, had stripped down to their lightest clothing. The building temperature has spiked to nearly ninety degrees, and everyone is cranky. One would think that a building full of Californian NCIS agents would be less sensitive to the heat, but apparently that would be wrong.

"Alright, _Agent_ Beale," Nell says as she pulls her hair off of her damp neck and into a ponytail. "It's go time."

A shiver of excitement runs up Eric's spine in spite of the heat. From hacking into the NCIS servers to planning to steal an object right under Hetty's nose to being called an agent, he feels very badass indeed.

As an added bonus, Nell kissed his cheek earlier today, so even if they don't steal the broach, he feels as though he has won.

They make their way down the stairs and to the prearranged lookout space. In the hallway that branches off from the main foyer, just before entering the bullpen area, there is a small rectangular cutout in the wall. From here, they can see Hetty's desk perfectly. Eric kneels below the gap to hide his head, and Nell crouches beside him.

"Okay," Nell says. She is in full tactile mode, with her undivided focus on the broach. There is no way she is going to let either of the other two teams win. She raises Eric's pocket-sized binoculars (only mulling over the fact that they would never fit in _her_ pockets, since pockets on female clothing are so unfairly small) and peeks out from behind the wall.

"Well, the good news is that her sweater is off," Nell whispers as she peers through the binoculars. "The bad news is… I don't see where she put it."

"Plan B, then?" Eric asks.

"Plan B," she agrees.

"Go get 'em, tiger."

She tries (and fails) to suppress a grin at his words as she walks out of their hiding place and towards Hetty's desk.

"Hello, Ms. Jones," Hetty greets her as she approaches. She takes a sip from her teacup before going on, "I hope you are here about a sit-rep."

"I am." Nell begins to tell her about the slinky Sam and Callen had found in the Navy Lieutenants' husband' brown paper bag. It turns out that the toy was actually made of solid gold, and was incorporated with the rabbit-and-drug-dealers plans.

As she gives Hetty the update, she looks around the room for the sweater, but it is nowhere in sight.

"Thank you, Miss Jones. But I was actually hoping for a sit-rep on the lack of air conditioning."

"Ah," Nell says. "I was wondering the same thing. I'm having Eric check for some kind of glitch in the system. I'll let you know if we find anything."

"Thank you Miss Jones."

When she stands up to reach her teapot and pour herself another cup, Nell almost can't help groaning as she turns to head back to Ops.

Hetty had tied her sweater around her waist.

x

"Ugh," Kensi groans as she shrugs off her already unbuttoned flannel. Her tank top is probably soaked with sweat in the back, but at the moment she is so overheated that she doesn't even care. "Why is it so hot in here?"

They have only returned from their interrogation at the boatshed ten minutes prior, but the air is so soupy that it did not take long for both her and Deeks to become uncomfortably warm.

"I know there is a joke in there about my rugged good looks heating up the place, but my brain is currently turning to sludge and I can't think of one," Deeks informs them. He, too, had stripped off his long sleeve t-shirt in favor of a cut-off he usually saves for working out.

They hear a whistle from outside the bullpen, and turn sluggishly to find Sam and Callen approaching their desks.

"You know, I thought this was a federal office building," Callen notes with a nod at their lack of clothing. He collapses into his seat and opens up his desk drawer. "Not a sweat lodge."

"You tell that to the defunct heating system," Deeks groans as he pats at the cold washcloth on his forehead. "I hate LA."

"You love LA," Sam argues.

"Not today, I don't."

Callen digs around his drawer until he finds the bottle he was looking for. He shakes it and nods at Sam, who rolls his eyes in response.

"What's that?" Deeks inquires.

"This is how we're going to win," Callen responds. "Ready, Sam?"

"As long as you're still going to buy us tickets to a Lakers game next month," Sam tells him.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

Sam leans away from his desk with a sigh and stalks out of the bullpen and over to Hetty's desk.

"Hetty?" Sam asks. "Hi, I, uh, wanted to ask you… is your car is parked on the east side of the building today?"

"Why, yes, Mr. Hanna," she responds as she furrows her brow. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was passing by it on my way into the building, and I noticed a small scratch on the drivers' side—"

"A scratch?" she asks in a deadly calm voice. She rises slowly from her seat and shoots a glare that could (and probably has) kill a man. "Are you certain, Mr. Hanna?"

"Well—"

"Show me, please," she demands in a voice that sends a shiver through Sam.

"Sure, sure," he says as he allows her to drag him towards the buildings' entrance.

Once he and Hetty have rounded the corner, Callen saunters over to her desk. With a cursory look around to make sure he is not being watched by anyone other than Kensi and Deeks, he takes the now crushed sleeping pills and deposits them into her teacup. He stirs it into the pale brown liquid until it has dissolved completely, and then he briskly walks back into the bullpen. He sits back down just in time to hear Sam's apologetic voice, "…must have been a trick of the light. I could have sworn I saw a scratch on the door."

"Well, Mr. Hanna, I would appreciate it if you made sure next time. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, again," he responds as he comes back into the bullpen. He makes sure to throw a deep scowl in Callen's direction.

"Mission accomplished," Callen says with a thumbs up.

x

Kensi climbs the stairs to Ops sluggishly. The air is so thick that she might as well be walking underwater. And if anyone can figure out why it is so warm, it is the Wonder Twins.

"Hey Eric," she says as she walks in. "I don't know if you guys noticed, but it's just about a million degrees."

"Sorry about that," he responds. "I guess Nell and I overdid it a little. Have you gotten the broach yet?"

"No… What did you mean by 'Nell and I overdid it a little'?"

"Um…"

She strides towards him as she demands in a hiss, "This was you guys?"

Eric steps backwards involuntarily as he stammers, "Um, w-well, m-m-maybe?"

"And did it work?" she asks. Her tone is still dangerous. "Did you get the broach?"

"Uh… uh… well, no. No, she kept the sweater around her waist so… so it didn't work."

" _Then fix it_."

"Sure, yeah, of course," he says as he sinks into the chair Kensi backed him into. He immediately begins hacking back into the heating system. She turns on her heal and exits Ops without waiting for him to finish.

x

"Does she look tired to you? At all?" Callen asks Sam. The sleeping pills were supposed to take effect within half an hour and it had already been double that time. He is starting to get impatient.

"No," Sam answers as he glances up from his paperwork. They had solved their case, and as soon as he finishes the paperwork, he is home free. Perhaps tonight he will be home early enough to cook dinner with Michelle—if only this bet ends soon.

"I gave her enough to knock out a small horse," Callen tells him incredulously. "How is she still awake?"

"Dammit, G," Sam says in a harsh whisper. "I told you in the car that we should have just spilled something on her sweater. If you ruined this for us after all this trouble…"

"Maybe it's just taking a while to get into her system."

"Face it, Callen," Kensi says from behind him. He and Sam turn away from where they are spying on Hetty to find her walking back into the bullpen. "You're plan failed."

"It's nearly the end of the day," Callen retorts with a grin. "Have you given up?"

"Never," she responds with a grin. "In fact, if you would like to watch, I would suggest you get ready. But if you'll excuse me, I have to speak with Hetty first."

She turns around and walks swiftly to Hetty's desk.

"Miss Blye," Hetty greets her as she places her pen down onto the desk. "What can I help you with this evening?"

"I just wanted to ask you about a case that I'm working on," Kensi invents. "It's a cold case, and I was wondering if you could give me your opinion on something—"

"HETTY?"

Kensi leaps up from her seat when she hears Deeks' shout. Hetty stands up behind her desk as well.

When Deeks rounds the corner, Kensi wants to punch him. He has completely overdone it with the fake blood, and it is dripping down his nose at a pace that would probably require emergency surgery if it was real.

"Oh, goodness, Mr. Deeks!" Hetty exclaims as she walks around her desk to guide him into Kensi's recently vacated chair.

"What happened?" Kensi exclaims as she reaches for the box of tissues on Hetty's desk. She hopes her voice sounds more like a worried girlfriend than an annoyed partner.

Hetty presses a wad of tissues against Deeks' nose. As he explains, Kensi angles herself so that her arm is hidden by Deeks, but she is still in reach of the coveted broach.

"Ughh—I was testing one of those guns we got last week," Deeks invents in a muffled voice. "But man, the recoil was much stronger than I thought it would be. Ow…"

Kensi reaches towards the broach and gently begins loosening the pin's clasp. So far, so good.

"Oh, God, Hetty. I'm beginning to get dizzy. Kensalina, sweetie, I think this is it for me. I'm going to do it. I'm walking into the light—"

"You're going to be okay, Mr. Deeks." Hetty shifts towards Kensi and addresses her, "You should call for an ambulance."

"No!" Deeks shouts. He reaches out a hand towards Hetty's wrist and grips it tightly. "If I'm going to die, I want to die right here. With you guys. My two favorite ladies. Well, besides my mom…"

As Deeks drones on about his mother, Kensi is able to unclasp the broach. It drops into her hand, and she almost can't stifle the grin.

"Maybe we should get you home, Deeks," Kensi says gently. "So you can get into bed and rest. We can talk tomorrow, Hetty."

"That sounds like a good call," he groans. "I'm really feeling the burn in my nose here. I think I might have to get it amputated. Is that a thing? Nose amputations? Maybe I will be the first…"

Kensi and Hetty help Deeks to his feet. Just before they begin to walk towards the bullpen where Sam and Callen are waiting, though, Hetty touches the now empty area of her sweater and comments, "Well that's odd. Where did my broach go?"

 _Damn_ , Kensi thinks silently. _She noticed. I lost!_

After making sure that Hetty's attention is still on her sweater, she tosses the broach onto the chair in front of her desk.

"I think I saw it over there," she says as she points in the direction she had tossed it.

"Ah, thank you Miss Blye." Hetty locates sand secures the broach back onto her sweater before she continues, "I suggest you bring Deeks to the bullpen and pick up your belongings. I will pull your car around to the front after I have a word with Granger."

"Sounds good, Hetty. Thanks," Kensi responds as she hands over her keys.

Kensi leads Deeks back to the bullpen, where Callen and Sam clap slowly. Eric and Nell lean against their desks with smirks dancing across their lips.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Kensi mumbles as she picks up her workbag.

"I think Deeks should be nominated for an Emmy," Sam comments. "That was quite a performance."

"I try," Deeks says as he wipes away the excess fake blood.

"So, I guess no one won," Eric says after ensuring that Hetty had walked out the door to retrieve Kensi's car.

"Don't speak so soon."

The team turns towards the gate in front of the bullpen, where Granger is leaning expressionlessly. Without saying anything more, he walks towards them and places Hetty's broach on Kensi's desk. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but before he turns around it almost looks like he winks at them.

"Goodnight," he says over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

The team's appalled silence only lasts a moment before Sam demands, "How the hell…?"

"Granger Danger for the win," Deeks says with a whistle.

"Well, hold on," Callen interrupts. "Technically, Granger wasn't part of the game."

"So, technically," Kensi continues, catching on to Callen's notion, "he can't be the winner."

"So we're calling it moot?" Eric clarifies. "No one wins?"

"And no one loses," Nell adds, which is really the more important point.

"All in favor?" Deeks asks, raising his hand.

It's unanimous.


End file.
